“And mind how you open it,” said Meg, becoming alert.  “Remember we have plenty of enemies, and a pike blade comes through a small crack.”

“Can you live with the wise and remain a greenhorn?  Trust me.”  And placing his arm about his spouse’s waist, Simon stood on tiptoe and kissed her gently on the cheek in token of reconciliation, for Meg had a nasty memory in quarrels.  Then he skipped away towards the door as fast as his bandy legs would carry him.

The colloquy there was long and for the most part carried on through the keyhole, but in the end their visitor was admitted, a beetle-browed brute of much the same stamp as his host.

“You are nice ones,” he said sulkily, “to be so suspicious about an old friend, especially when he comes on a job.”

“Don’t be angry, dear Hans,” interrupted Simon in a pleading voice.  “You know how many bad characters are abroad in these rough times; why, for aught we could tell, you might have been one of these desperate Lutherans, who stick at nothing.  But about the business?”

“Lutherans, indeed,” snarled Hans; “well, if they are wise they’d stick at your fat stomach; but it is a Lutheran job that I have come from The Hague to talk about.”

“Ah!” said Meg, “who sent you?”

“A Spaniard named Ramiro, who has recently turned up there, a humorous dog connected with the Inquisition, who seems to know everybody and whom nobody knows.  However, his money is right enough, and no doubt he has authority behind him.  He says that you are old friends of his.”

“Ramiro?  Ramiro?” repeated Meg reflectively, “that means Oarsman, doesn’t it, and sounds like an alias?  Well, I’ve lots of acquaintances in the galleys, and he may be one of them.  What does he want, and what are the terms?”

Hans leant forward and whispered for a long while.  The other two listened in silence, only nodding from time to time.

“It doesn’t seem much for the job,” said Simon when Hans had finished.

“Well, friend, it is easy and safe; a fat merchant and his wife and a young girl.  Mind you, there is no killing to be done if we can help it, and if we can’t help it the Holy Office will shield us.  Also it is only the letter which he thinks that the young woman may carry that the noble Ramiro wants.  Doubtless it has to do with the sacred affairs of the Church.  Any valuables about them we may keep as a perquisite over and above the pay.”

Simon hesitated, but Meg announced with decision,

“It is good enough; these merchant woman generally have jewels hidden in their stays.”

“My dear,” interrupted Simon.

“Don’t ‘my dear’ me,” said Meg fiercely.  “I have made up my mind, so there’s an end.  We meet by the Boshhuysen at five o’clock at the big oak in the copse, where we will settle the details.”

After this Simon said no more, for he had this virtue, so useful in domestic life—­he knew when to yield.